So I figure writing about hearing the Dalai Lama speak is as good of topic as any to start a new blog and this past Friday (10/26) I did just that. Back in August I was surprised to find out he was coming to Purdue because I assumed His Holiness doesn’t just choose where and when he visits on a whim and West Lafayette isn’t exactly a destination city. Come to find out his older brother founded The Tibetan Cultural Center in Bloomington, IN and somehow Purdue finagled an appearance out his visit to The Hoosier State. Anyway, I was excited to get to have the rare opportunity to see him, granted I wasn’t expecting him to impart any grand piece of wisdom. I went primarily so that I can say I’ve been to see the Dalai Lama, and who knows, maybe he’ll say something profoundly life changing – after all, this is his 14th life here on Earth, he’s bound to know a thing or two.

Finally, after 45 minutes in a security check line, another 45 minutes waiting in our seats, some Tibetan music, some audience participation chanting, and a ridiculous amount of pomp and circumstance on Purdue’s behalf the DL comes on stage, sits in a chair, takes off his shoes and crosses his legs, pops on a visor to keep the stage lights out of his eyes, and then proceeds to tells the 6,000 present to not expect any miracles, divine knowledge, or profound wisdom. Bam! There it is, I should just leave now. But I can see why the guy has such a following in religious and secular circles as his charm, humility, and sense of humor are disarming; he kind of just sucks you in.

I’ve heard a lot of people, mostly grad students, around here criticize The DL for a variety of reasons: Some accuse him of being a pawn of the CIA while others attack him for his position on homosexuality. Personally, I thought he ducked a question on the Iraq War. However, if you were willing to wade through all the pomp, the glad-handing, the self-deprecation, and the “well duh” – common sense of his talk, he hammered home a relevant theme: Compassion. His entire spiel could be summed up as follows: If we were all more compassionate the world would be a better place and we would all be happier people.

Well no shit Sherlock. Hmmm, that thought wasn’t very compassionate. Damn. But I already know this crap and surely everyone else in this auditorium does too, we’ve all heard the Golden Rule ad nauseum, so we don’t need to hear it from a little old bald dude in a red robe and thick glasses. But the question lingered: If we know this why aren’t we more compassionate? Why am I not more compassionate? Perhaps this sentiment is one that bears repeating as many times as people will listen.

I began thinking about the fact that I’m just not a very compassionate human being. I think I’m a generally good person, but I’m easily agitated, impatient, quick to judge people … maybe I’m not so good. Maybe this religious awakening I’ve been going through isn’t really taking. Maybe I’m not paying close enough attention to Rabbi on Friday evenings. Maybe I’m missing the point in studying Torah and Talmud. I needed to take stock of how compassion fits in with Judaism so I began looking into it and I determined learning what the Hebrew word for compassion is would be a good starting point.

Rachamim is compassion in Hebrew, rachum is compassionate, and racham is to show compassion. All share the same root word: Rechem which translates to womb. Interesting… When the DL was talking about compassion he related back to motherhood and the connection a mother has to her child(ren) as the source for compassion in the world. I think traditional feminism would probably have some serious problems with this way of thinking and they have reason to be concerned: Victorianism and The Cult of Motherhood (and similar ways of thinking) held that motherhood was a woman’s destiny and it was the mother that imbued her children with certain qualities, compassion being one of them. Along with this notion came isolation – both physical and emotional – and sexual repression all justified by the belief that women were inferior to men and must be protected from the danger and sins of the world. Reactions against this way of thinking have justifiably allowed women to choose to reject motherhood. However, later waves of feminism have recognized that throwing the baby out with the bath water probably isn’t the only option. A woman can choose to be a mother without being a tool of the patriarchy and a father can help teach a child about compassion as equally well as a mother. However, there exists an undeniable bond between a mother and child and I agree with the DL that said bond, if it is a healthy one, can be a source of great compassion.

Too many studies have demonstrated that abandoned children and children raised in orphanages without much human contact drastically increases their chances of having attachment disorders or other severe behavioral problems. The DL even referenced several recent studies indicating that infant rats separated from their mothers early on suffered not only behavioral abnormalities but biological effects as well such as slowed neural development in the brain.

Compassion is a major theme in Judaism: The Jewish mandates to be a “light onto the nations” and to work for tikkun olam (the healing, repair, and perfecting of the world); the mitzvot to pursue justice and righteousness and to emulate God in His attribute of compassion; the implications of such mitzvot as “love thy neighbor as thyself”, “be kind to the stranger for you were strangers in the land of Egypt”, and “seek peace and pursue it” all demonstrate that compassion plays an integral role in the day-to-day practice of Judaism, but Rabbi Rick Brody expand on the already established connection of compassion to motherhood as he offers these thoughts on the Mi Shebeirach – the Jewish prayer for healing the sick:

Specifically, the tradition is to say the name of the person, followed by ben or bat (son or daughter of) and then the person’s mother’s Hebrew name. This is because one of the enduring images of motherhood is comfort and healing. After all, every human being grew inside the protective care of a mother’s womb. In Hebrew, womb is rechem, which is directly related to the word rachamim, compassion. The idea is that by invoking the person’s mother’s name, we are asking for the natural healing power that brought that person to life from the womb to again surround the sick individual, restoring him to full health.

So what does all of this talk of compassion mean? Those of you who read my previous blog know something of my spiritual journey as I documented parts of it there. I will continue that process here on this blog, and keeping in that vein for my upcoming conversion I am required to select a Hebrew name (a born Jew has his Hebrew name given to him by his parents) and I’ve been struggling to find one that I like and has meaning for me. I think I’m going to choose Racham – to show compassion – not because I’m particularly good at it, but to remind me on a daily basis to exercise compassion.

So while I was not promised total consciousness on my death bed, The Dalai Lama reminded me of something I already knew but now I plan to put it into action – so I’ve got that going for me. You’ve read my impressions of the DL so now I’ll leave you with Carl Spackler’s tale of his encounter with the “big hitter”: